Demons
by xASx
Summary: The story of two souls... Their fates entwined as hard as the rope in a sail... A story of love, betrayal, adventure and the belief that if you love someone... you will always find each other... A story of the lives of Thorin and Thranduil, inspired and based on the song named Demons by Imagine Dragons, the books of J.R.R. Tolkien and the movies of Peter Jackson...
1. When the days are cold

**Demons**

When the days are cold

He looked out the window… A cold, windless world… His eyes could not see anything more… or less… A soft drizzling outside… A hand wavered in front of his eyes… Voices crying out his name… No… He could not… He _would_ not… He needed to find peace… His face turned… Ageless… Yet his years visible in his eyes… His curse… and his blessing… The person in front of him gasped at his gaze…

'Ada?'

Thranduil focused his eyes on his almost desperate son. Then tilted his head in reassurance and left the room with determination written all over him. He didn't need to listen to this… He just needed peace…

A few miles away someone cried out… Hands tightly holding on to life… A small childish cry… The joyful gasp of relief… Blood… Water cleansing a small figure in someone's arms… Tender hands stroking a small hairy head… Smiles and congratulations…

Cold was the first thing Thorin, heir of Durin, felt when he left his mother's womb…

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 _Each Chapter has a title of one lyric from the song Demons by Imagine Dragons and the plot follows the feels of the song through which the whole fanfic was inspired. Well this is gonna take a while -SlOW BUILD PLOT- but I thought they deserved an origin story heee. It starts when Thorin is born and I am not sure how it's gonna end but it's gonna go after the Battle of the Five Armies. I know chapters start as small but they get quite bigger._

 _Any Elvish or Dwarvish or any other language that is not English and is used, is gonna be translated in the end notes of each chapter as well as any Tolkien explanations for any places, traditions, names, e.t.c. that might appear. I'll post the dictionary and the site I get them from if someone wants it. ;)_

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 **Ada: Elvish for 'father'**


	2. And the cards all fold

**Demons**

And the cards all fold

He didn't know what it meant. It was a letter… Obviously, inviting the Wood Elves to a Dwarven celebration. Thranduil could not recall when something like this had occurred before. Young Legolas was waiting patiently for his answer and the Elven King didn't have one… For once he could not foresee what was waiting for him and his kingdom... The light of the Eldar couldn't help him. He dismissed Legolas and let his thoughts conquer… Why _now_? Perhaps the Valar had noticed his weariness and wished to renew his interest in the world. It wasn't his time yet… He knew… So what was it that the Dwarves were celebrating? As they were trying to establish a new but strong kingdom, there was no room for celebration these days. What was so important to invite the Elves to? Did they want to _boast_ about their progress? To show him how much richer a Dwarven Kingdom could be from his simple Elvish one? The Elven King's pale lips formed a smile… He would find out for himself…

In the dark of a glorious apartment inside Erebor, a young Prince not two months old looked at the stars outside the window beside his cradle with fiery blue eyes full of curiosity…

The same stars Thranduil gazed at that night… Completely ignorant of what those stars had written for him… Untouched by the fact that his weariness of this world would never near his heart again…

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 _I am trying to be very thorough on explanations and why and how I use Tolkien terminology, so sorry if the end notes are too much sometimes. ;)_

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 **The light of the Eldar: it was the magic of all Elves in simple words. Here I mostly use it to show their abilities as to see the future but not in a literal way, meaning that they can forsee certain actions and they might have visions. Literally Eldar means Star People and it is the name given to the Elves by Vala Oromë. After the Valar summoned the Elves to the West, Eldar was used to describe only those who answered to the call and travelled to the Undying Lands. Thranduil's race belongs to the Eldar although they didn't go to the Undying Lands because they didn't refuse the calling and so they can choose to travel to the West whenever they wish to.**

 **Wood Elves: There were basically three races of Elves that belonged to the Eldar. The two main ones answered to the call of the Valar while the two thirds of the Teleri stayed behind, the Noldor and the Sindar. Thranduil and Legolas are Sindar Elves, Grey Elves while the rest of their kin living in Greenwood were Silvan Elves, part of the Avari. More on that on the NEXT chapter (my notes here were wrong at first now I corrected them on the next chapter so yeah too bored to copy paste here too sorry ^^)**

 **The Valar: They are the Lords of Valinor, the Powers of Arda, who shaped the world. They are the divine powers let's say so that's why I am going to be referring to them sometimes as the center of worship between the Elves especially and sometimes, only specific Valar, will appear likewise between Dwarves.**


	3. And the saints we see

**Demons**

And the saints we see

The Greenwood Elves entered Erebor in all their grace and light. The green-golden walls shone at their King's passing and the Dwarves admired them and felt pride at their presence… The Elven King didn't try to hide the admiration from his eyes, as the skill of the Dwarves unfolded in all its might while walking through their halls…

Thranduil was politely shown to the Prince's quarters when his discussion with the King ended up on the question that had brought him there in the first place.

A small childish laugh… A door closing… A shy welcome from the Princess… and Thranduil found himself alone in the room, with a cradle beside the window, and the Dwarvish woman dressed in silken robes -unusual for Dwarves- that had brought this being to life… The Elven King stared... and stared... stunned, before finally approaching the cradle, where he could see small Dwarvish feet playing with the small fake axe hanging above them.

Was _that_ what Thror wanted to boast about? A healthy new heir? A _child_? A genuine smile formed on his lips and he didn't quite know how or why… The Princess smiled back, standing beside the cradle, and Thranduil realized how nervous she was with only the Elven King and her firstborn in the room. He didn't quite remember how Thrain allowed this private moment or why he wasn't there to smile with mockery at his expression…

Another childish laugh and Thranduil was standing above the child, leaving a small breath of surprise.

The small heir of Durin had stopped playing –although some of his toes were still in his mouth- and instead was looking directly at the strange newcomer, with the pointy ears and the long hair, with his wide blue eyes… As if knowing what role the shining elf was going to play into his life…

Thranduil found himself taken aback and without thinking, let himself travel deep into those two oceans of dark blue, finding them so enchanting that nothing could ever resist them… A voice brought him to reality… His own voice asking in soft tender tones he had never dreamt of producing…

'What is his name?'

'Thorin' a gentle hand stroked the Dwarfling's head; so full of black hair, Thranduil almost chuckled at the sight.

'Can I…?' The Dwarven Princess -startled by his tone- nodded, removing her palm from her son's hair reluctantly.

Thranduil smiled and leaned, not aware of what he was about to do and actually surprised by himself as he always had a plan of his next move… His Elven breath mixed with the small Dwarvish ones and his elegant hand traced the side of the Dwarfling's head, while their eyes met once more and Thranduil saw the strength and the courage ready to be shaped into the new Prince's soul… His lips touched gently the tiny forehead and the child did not move one inch… Thranduil whispered, for only the child's ears to hear… a small elvish blessing… and then withdrew a few inches, still smiling…

'Thorin…' Another small whisper… trying the name out… how it rolled through his lips…

'My little daring Prince…'

The young Prince giggled… His mother, wide-eyed at what had taken place in front of her eyes, was looking at Thranduil with awe at the honour and _trust_ that he had just placed on Durin's line…

The Elven King bowed with respect at the woman that had brought the small Dwarf to the world and slowly left the room, still surprised with himself, and already thinking of the consequences of his actions. But, when he entered his apartments, he noticed the stunned and confused look into his son's eyes that made him realise a small smile still lingered on his face…

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 **Thorin: Since I made a reference with Thranduil's little speech I thought of discussing that here a bit. Thorin's name is derived from the Old Norse and it means 'daring'. Specifically, 'thor' means 'audacity' and 'thora' means 'to dare'. I might make name references in further chapters so I'll be explaining each name in its own time probably.**

 **Greenwood Elves: First you might want to see my notes on the races of Elves on the previous chapter. I found out what I had assumed was only partly right about Thranduil and his kin. With the help of a more of a Tolkien expert than myself, my friend, xALx, I found out that indeed Thranduil and Legolas did not come from Greenwood and they do not belong to the same race as the Elves they rule over. So Thranduil and Legolas are Sindar Elves, Grey Elves, that started the journey to Valinor but stopped near Doriath and that's why they have a connection sometimes with the High Elves, the Noldor, living in Imladris (Rivendell) and Lothlorien and also into the West. They are part of the Eldar, but the Elves that they rule over and guide are not part of the Eldar at all, since they completely refused the journey to Valinor. So the Elves of Greenwood/Mirkwood like Tauriel and all other subjects of the Elven King belong to the Avari, which is the group that refused the calling to the Undying Lands and particularly called Silvan Elves.**


	4. Are all made of gold

**Demons**

Are all made of gold

King Thror was on his throne, with Thrain beside him, and all the guests on the great hall were watching the Dwarven Princess walking down the aisle to reach her father in law, with the young ascendant in her hands, whose blue eyes were gleaming, looking around curiously. The Elven King tilted his head as they passed, feeling Thror's gaze piercing his back before he turned to meet the King's eyes.

Earlier that day Thranduil had been escorted to the treasury and Thror had been watching him closely… Maybe wanting to see the Elf's eyes waver in admiration and perhaps even jealousy, but Thranduil had not let him see, not even a glimpse of it. What worth was there in gold if your heart is empty? Once he had promised to himself he would never find reassurance in something tangible instead of something spiritual… Little did he know that this, was exactly what his future would bring…

Yet Thranduil didn't feel his heart empty anymore… His mind dwelled on what was about to happen that evening and Thror had noticed this sudden change, that took place after the Elven King's arrival…

The ritual was simple, according to Dwarven customs; announcing the name of the new member of the line of Durin and welcoming him to the world. The celebrations, however, were grand as the guests were many, from all the nearest kingdoms, and of course all the Dwarven families were present.

Thranduil sighed at the lack of any other Elven company -except his own Woodland Elves- and as the representative of his race, he sat near the Dwarven King, Thror, whose stare was as intense as before, although the feast had now taken much of his attention away from the Elves. When both Kings had poured their cups empty a lot of times, Thror finally turned to speak to the Elf, leaving his son and his kin for a while...

The new heir was long gone with his mother to take care of him, as every guest had filled him with toys and grand wishes, that of course had tired the poor child. Thranduil had smiled when he found out, he was the only one that didn't know the reason of the celebration, before he came. _Surely_ Thror did that on purpose but Thranduil had come prepared, and soon an Elvish bow, and some small arrows, found their way to the little Prince's quarters… Waiting for him, as this was the place he was to live after the first few years of his life…

The kid seemed to like Thranduil… He had attempted to play with some locks of the Elf's long hair, but his mother had quickly apologized and, blushing at Thranduil's small smile, cradled her son away… But Thranduil felt those two blue orbs staring at his back, even after she had left with the Princeling in her arms.

'My beloved daughter, the wife of my son, spoke to me earlier…' Thranduil turned his attention back to reality. Thror's tone was wet from the beer and wine he had consumed throughout the evening.

The Elf merely leaned his head and pretended to be absorbed with his food, suspecting where the King was going with this idle chat.

'She told me what you did…' Although the tone was smoother and warmer, the Elven King could see the coldness of Thror's eyes, with the corner of his own and decided to speak.  
'I'm sure she did…'

Thror faked a smile and pressed on.  
'What did _it_ mean?'

The Elven King turned his gaze to him and spoke softly, not wanting to ignite the King's anger.

'I gave the boy my blessing' It wasn't only that, Thranduil knew and Thror knew too, but he decided to not press further. A small inclination of the head as a 'thank you', and the conversation changed until the Dwarven King returned to his kin and his drinking.

Thranduil watched him and exhaled all the tension building up inside of him. What did Dwarves know of the ancient Elvish ways? Thranduil knew they didn't care… But when an Elf blesses a new-born like that… their fates and their paths are entwined forever… Obviously Thror _cared_ about that... Obviously he would strive to break this bonding... But the Elven King knew, no matter how much Thror would try to keep his grandson away from the world of the Elves, the child would always return to him…

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 _The moment when you realise, you are trying to keep this as canon and as Tolkien as possible and then it pops up to you that Elven magic is never described like that in Tolkien ;) why the h*ll not?_

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 **The welcoming ritual: Well, no I didn't find that anywhere so... another fact that is non-canon about what I am trying to keep as Tolkien as possible here :P colossal failure. Anyway here's the thing: I research about Dwarven rituals and all -all I found was mating rituals you don't wanna know about- and I ended up on reading about their religion in case there was an implication there -there wasn't-. But it seems to me that they should have something to celebrate the birth of a child -since the population of Dwarven women was considerably smaller than Dwarven men- and especially an heir to the Throne of Durin for God's sake! XD So I introduced this little thing but as you see I don't describe it a lot precisely for the reason of overfilling the canon-ness with... well... other things... which for another colossal failure, I am sure I am going to do it in the next chapters ;)**

 **Thranduil's ritual towards Thorin: since the notes were somewhat overfilled in the last chapter, I might as well put it here. So what I am describing is a bit of Elven magic and as said in the starting notes... Elvish magic doesn't appear like that in Tolkien! *outraged self* But well what does it mean... this... this is a mystery to be solved in the next chapters :P**

 **Crafting: Between Dwarves crafting special items, for occasions or not, didn't only represent strength and skill but also commitment and emotion, as the creators literally poured their own soul into their creations. I'm putting this here as a small hint... By the way that bow was carved beautifully...**


	5. When your dreams all fail

**Demons**

When your dreams all fail

Years passed and the new heir grew to become the most skilled sword-fighter in the land of Rhovanion, even though he hadn't seen a real battle yet. Much to the satisfaction of his grandfather, and his father, Thorin's talent became known from his early age, when he was still a boy, as did the fact that he wasn't very keen on long range weapons; so bows and arrows were out of the question. When Thranduil was told -by Thror himself-, he just smiled in a serene way and Thror was infuriated by the lack of mockery in the Elf's stance every time his grandson was mentioned, fearing what that could possibly mean -although a little respect from the Elves in itself would not have annoyed him so much.

All the times when the Elven King would appear in Erebor for meetings about diplomacy and political issues, trade and taxes, Thror would watch him closely and would _hide_ his grandson until the Elves were gone… The young Prince couldn't hide his curiosity, as he had never seen an Elf in his life -or so he thought- but he would always obey, if not his grandfather's, then his father's word and stayed away for some days.

There, in the deep darkness of Erebor, young Thorin would hear stories from his mother about the Elven wars and about times when Elves, Dwarves and Men forged secret alliances together and fought with courage and bravery… United… Thorin learnt how those alliances were broken… How the Elves and the Dwarves fought ever since… And how important it was for Erebor to keep the peace, between the Mountain and the Elves of Mirkwood…

'Why doesn't dad let me see them…?' Thorin would ask, and his mother would sigh, remembering the bright light that had one day shone in this exact room. Then she would take him in her arms and whisper something about the alliance, that had to be maintained whatever the cost, and young Thorin would close his eyes -not understanding why was it so wrong to just see an Elf- and fell asleep, as he had done for so many times before, in his mother's loving arms…

There he would always feel warm and his mind would flash with light of a distant memory… Always the same… Always warm… Always pale but powerful… And Thorin would dream of Elves, fighting with their precise movements, their long hair flowing like waterfalls at their backs, their swords shining at the burning sun…

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Thranduil on the other hand, waited very patiently for his next moment with the young Prince of Erebor. He knew it would not be easy, as Thror was determined to not let him near his grandson ever again, but Thranduil could not bear the thought of losing all of Thorin's childhood -although he could not explain the cause of this particular feeling… So sometimes he wandered at the corridors, at the training places… But he never found any sign of the Prince… No dark blue eyes piercing him… Nothing… And so he waited…

And there was a time, when King Thror had visitors from his kin in the Iron Hills and Thranduil and his counsellors were found in Erebor, unattended and free to stroll through the Mountain, without the King being notified of their presence… Thrain was busy too, and so the Elven King took the liberty of showing his most irritated companions to the chambers they usually were brought to by the Dwarves, and ordered them to not try and disturb the Dwarven King before he would be notified of their presence. The Elves reluctantly did as their King said, although they were still irritated that their arrival had been forgotten for the sake of some Dwarven cousins.

Thranduil sighed and left for a stroll around the halls of Erebor, to calm his nerves, until he suddenly stopped at the training arena, at a side of the Mountain, with his eyes wide… There he was… The young Prince training, alone… The Elven King was standing there startled… His eyes exploring every small detail of Thorin's body and strength… Although young for a Dwarf -not even reaching the end of adolescence yet- the Prince's muscles were well shaped, his posture touched perfection, and his movements were so swift and precise -as if he was training for ages. His body was glistening with sweat, from the hours of training and the heat of the sun, hitting the Mountain hard, burning the grass, as summer was almost at its end…

Thorin was so concentrated at his sword that he didn't notice the Elf standing there, until he finished his exercise and turned to the side. His eyes fell on pale skin, long -blond to white- hair shining in the afternoon sun, tall slender body… Then his gaze lifted to meet the Elf's –because Thorin felt it was an Elf- eyes and stayed there almost gaping… Those eyes… Grey with pale blue… A light emanating that he had never seen before… Or perhaps… He had…? Long eyelashes, intense stare… Eyebrows that added such tenderness… He knew those eyes… He knew them!... But Thorin could not remember… He only felt a certain warmth… such a familiar warmth…

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Thranduil approached him, curtly bowing his head in respect for the young heir of Durin. His movement woke Thorin from his thoughts and the Dwarf slowly walked closer, wiping his sword clean with a piece of clothing because the blade was as if it was sharing the sweat of its master, glistening in the sunrays that hit it… Thranduil quickly managed to count the years and he found that the young Dwarf should be about his late teenage ones -very young for a dwarf- yet the Elven King couldn't believe it.

'You must be Thorin, son of Thrain, the talented young swordfighter, I presume…' Thranduil greeted politely.

Thorin managed to maintain a calm expression, although his mind flashed blank at that voice… The tones… The tenderness hidden behind it… The young Prince mentally slapped himself to be able to answer, bowing in return to the beautiful being in front of him…

'You presume right… And to whom -if I may- I have the honour to speak…?'

Thranduil tilted his head in approval, as the Prince's manners surprised him -compared to his father's and his grandfather's. Yet, he smiled softly not expecting anything less… Thorin studied him with wide eyes… The silken robes shining… The long hair flowing behind his back… The delicate fingers showing slightly under his robes… The small, untraceable, gentle movements… Those eyes… Weighing and studying Thorin in return, with such intensity; his knees were almost trembling… Finally, their gazes met… And Thorin found himself travelling in a sky full of stars, suddenly realizing the age of the Elven creature in front of him… Those eyes had seen millennia pass by… Wars… Beauty… Love… Hatred… Those eyes had seen so much that the young Prince almost took a step back, overwhelmed, but so fascinated, and with his heart beating so fast that he almost didn't get the chance to hide the blush of his cheeks…

'You can call me Thranduil…', replied the Elf with a slight tilt of his head and an amused smile, that made the young Prince frown just a little. Then Thorin saw something else… -glittering on the Elf's head- and his eyes widened even more…

'You…' he coughed to clear his voice and slapped himself mentally again, as he was about to forget every kind of polite manners he had ever learnt from his mother, 'Forgive me but I am afraid I have to ask… Are you the Elven King of…Greenwood…?' he hesitated at the name, just for an unnoticeable moment, wondering if calling it 'Mirkwood' would insult the Elf in front of him.

Thranduil saw where the young Dwarf's gaze lingered and sighed, raising a hand to slightly touch the white Elven circlet -made of mithril and silver- that he was usually wearing when he was visiting Erebor.

'Yes…' he sighed again, wishing he hadn't worn the ancient circlet of his people, marking his leadership, on this particular day…

Thorin stayed silent, observing with wide blue eyes the pale skin, that came to light, when the elf had risen his gentle fingers to his head, but then remembering his manners again, spoke in a tone full of awe that he had the honour to meet the King of the Woodland Realm -and also the first Elf he ever saw…

'As a Prince of Erebor, my Lord, may I ask what brings you here…?'

A faint smile appeared on the Elven King's lips and he let his hand fall to his side before replying.

'I might have asked you the same question young Prince…' There was a small pause… 'Since your Grandfather has never allowed us, _E_ _lves_ , to lay eyes upon his youngest heir ever since the day of his welcoming ritual…'

'I…' Thorin looked behind his shoulder at the training arena and then back at Thranduil, realizing what the Elf had just said, curiosity filling his veins and overwhelming his mind. 'I didn't know of your coming, my Lord…'

Thranduil knew he spoke the truth as Thror, and even Thrain, had forgotten about their diplomatic meeting -too absorbed by their cousins.

'Well then… Neither did your Grandfather…' He spoke -not with lack of mockery in his tone- and Thorin almost winced, but decided to keep himself calm, and stayed silent waiting for the Elf's next move, not caring to try and improvise for the sake of his Grandfather, as he knew the Elf would know if he was lying… Thranduil seemed to weigh him with his eyes and he tilted his head in concentration before smiling again, in a way Thorin couldn't decipher.

'Since both your Father and Grandfather are busy… How would you like to keep me some company as the young Prince…? No doubt at your age you are more than capable to look after yourself in the presence of Elves… And I suppose Dwarven manners do not include leaving guests alone…' spoke the Elven King in such a friendly tone, Thorin couldn't possibly say no. Instead he smiled back quite carelessly and with an 'Of course, you are right, my Lord', entered the Mountain, with the Elven King following him closely, until they reached a small cosy chamber, with couches and a table full of fresh drinks and fruit.

Thranduil glanced all around -quite impressed- as he had never been shown such hospitality in Erebor, where he always had to eat in the big dining hall with all kinds of Dwarves around him, or alone in his quarters, and the rest of his hours were spent in quiet council meetings with stony, cold walls, and quite uncomfortable chairs. He smiled, realising that if Thror ever wanted to see admiration in his eyes, he would better bring him here than show him the treasury. Here there was even a fireplace, the walls were decorated with tapestries of warm colours, that told stories of old, and Thranduil could gaze at them for years if he was not awoken by the young Prince offering him a seat in one of the couches along with a bottle of wine.

'So, tell me young Prince…' Thranduil spoke softly when seated, taking some sips of his glass from time to time, and continued only when Thorin tilted his head waiting for his question, 'How old are you exactly?'

'Seventeen…' Thorin leaned back in his chair, hiding his curiosity as to how this question came to the Elf's mind, but he was rewarded with an answer immediately.

'And yet you have shown me better hospitality than your Father or Grandfather ever had…'

Thorin locked his eyes with Thranduil's, and the Elven King saw the anger trying to get out, while Thorin heard the bitterness in the Elf's tone and the pride in his eyes, and so slowly the anger faded away -quite unexpectedly he might add.

'My Grandfather…' Thorin pursed his lips... He was sure the Elven King knew of the greed of the King… Yet, Thorin knew it with another name… From the stories of his mother… Dragon-sickness… His father though still couldn't believe it… And so it grew inside Thror's mind and heart… Endangering everything they had ever built inside and outside of Erebor…

Thranduil tilted his head in reassurance and understanding, and looked around as if to change the subject of the conversation, to which Thorin was immensely grateful. Suddenly the Elf's eyes lingered on a bow and some arrows at one wall and got up, walking towards them and stopping right in front of them. Thorin sat up, surprised and curious of the Elf's behaviour. Thranduil's hands rose and his fingers stroked the wood with careful but precise movements and somehow Thorin's mind filled with the thought that the Elven King had seen these exact weapons before and -oddly enough- knew every curve of this wood…

'Those are made by…' Thorin started to explain, but was interrupted from a voice full of emotion.

'Elves…' a long silence grew between Dwarf and Elf before the Elven King finally turned towards the young Prince.

'Yes Thorin, Prince of Erebor, I would recognize this bow and arrows everywhere…'

Thorin was about to ask how and why, but a door slammed and a very angered and red-faced Thror burst into the room, with eyes spitting insults to the Elven King and hitting Thorin with lightning… And all the dreams and hopes of a certain Dwarf and a certain Elf, shattered into the darkness once more…

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 _Things might be getting interesting... I don't know, you tell me ;) Comments and feedback are much appreciated!_

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 **Rhovanion: the meaning in Sindarin is Wilderland. Basically it consists all the land between four main boundaries: North boundaries are the Grey Mountains and Iron Hills (in this age the home of Thorin's cousin, Dáin Ironfoot and his kin), West boundaries are the Misty Mountains, East is the River running from the Lonely Mountain (going first through the Long Lake where Esgaroth is) continuing east to the inland Sea of Rhûn (a salt lake/sea in the east of Middle Earth) and the South boundaries are: first the Limlight river that run through forest Fangorn and emptied into Anduin, which is the second south boundary, then Emin Muil (remember Frodo and Sam hiking the stony hills to get to Mordor where they caught Gollum trying to kill them?), Dagorlad (the dusty plain in front of the Gates of Mordor no one could get through?) and Ered Lithui (the Ash Mountains separating Mordor from Rhovanion). Rhovanion at first was the name of a small region east of Greenwood, which later was the Kingdom of Rhovanion, but the name was used for all of Wilderland by the late Third Age. See the map shown above: Rhovanion consists Erebor and Greenwood and Lorien (it doesn't show most of the west boundaries as it is a bit complicated with how Anduin passes in front of Minas Tirith afterwards and all) so yeah Thorin was a great swordfighter to be known in all that land like that XD.**

 **Iron Hills: Range of Great Hills in the north-east of Rhovanion/Wilderland, home of the Longbeards (Dwarves of Khazad-dûm), but not as rich as its cousin-kingdom in Erebor as the hills were not rich in gold but iron. Dwarves abandoning Khazad-dûm when the Balrog had appeared took shelter in the Iron Hills and made a kingdom of their own there. However the relationship between Erebor and the Iron Hills became stronger and more of family-like when the son of Dáin the first fled from the Grey Mountains with his kin during the third age and established kingship over the Iron Hills, due to the fact that dragons had started attacking from the North and his father Dáin the First was slain by one of them.**

 **Greenwood/Mirkwood: In the age when Thorin was born -almost the end of the third age- Mirkwood was known as such for a really long time already, the Forest of the Great Fear, but I believe -since I'll mention also in later chapters- that Thorin (in this fic) knew enough of history to know the old and long-forgotten name of the forest which was Greenwood the Great. Later, after the complete fall of Sauron with the destruction of the One ring, it became known as Wood of Greenleaves (Eryn Lasgalen), when Thranduil had won against the armies that Sauron sent from Dol Guldur (almost at the same time when Legolas and Aragorn were fighting at Minas Tirith), and so renamed it, as the forest was now again cleansed from all evil.**

 **Mithril: a precious silvery metal, stronger than steal but lighter in weight (remember Bilbo's and later Frodo's little vest armor?) mined by the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm until Moria fell. Known as silver-steal and Moria-silver, beloved by all races and Dwarves specifically had a secret name for it as they loved it above all. Irony that dear Thrandy wears a piece of Mithril while visiting Erebor (in this fic)? Mithril is the name in Elvish, in Sindarin, consisting of the words mith (=grey, light grey) and ril (=brilliance). It mostly existed in the Misty Mountains and the Dwarves of Moria grew wealthy with it but their greed for more, resulted in awakening the Balrog and then the fall of Moria, which led the line of Durin to focus more in Erebor and the Grey Mountains and later the Iron Hills, long before Thorin or even his grandfather was born. I might start giving actual dates in the next chapters since I'm speaking so abstractly and it bother me lol :)**

 **Thorin's age: I've kept the age in control slightly because the Dragon came when Thorin was only 24 so I wanted to have some space for Thorin/Thranduil cuteness until then. ;)**

 **and I think I'm done with notes for this one XD sorry for the long-ish thingie... Oh and guess, why so emotional Thrandy over the bow? ;)**


	6. And the ones we hail

**Demons**

And the ones we hail

Thorin wandered around the corridors alone, bored… His grandfather's words echoing still in his ears… Months passed inside Erebor, yet Thorin couldn't care less about the time… _'How could you disobey me?!'_ Thorin hadn't… He had simply acted like a true Prince should… Not hiding behind his mother's skirts anymore… And Thror hadn't told him to stay inside that particular day either… _'YOU! Not even 20 years of age! How could…?!'_ No… How could _he_ …! A King...! Not see what his grandson had become? The rightful heir… Ready to become a true Prince of Erebor… _'You betrayed me! And you shall be punished!'_ and so Thorin was… Although Thrain tried to reason with the Dwarven King… No reason would work on him… His greed was taking his heart away slowly… But not slowly enough…

His crowning ritual, where Thorin was to become an official heir to the throne, was postponed if not canceled. Thorin was to show equal attitude to what he should be and maybe, after one or two years, Thror would change his mind about his young heir. For Thorin, that meant absolute devotion to his lessons and not the devotion he would like to have towards them… He should replace hours of sword-fighting and other war skills, with hours in the library and hard study of history and politics. Fortunately, Thorin had a sharp mind and, with the assistance of a friend, he managed to steal time for more training and for thinking…

'Thorin, please… Concentrate just for five minutes more and you're free to go…' whispered curtly Fundin, while they were sitting in an isolated table in the library.

'Alright alright' Thorin managed to hiss to his friend and teacher -as well as kind of uncle-, to whom he owed so much.

Fundin was much older than the Dwarven Prince and knew him from a child. He was talented in battle and sharp in mind and his help, Thorin could never repay. More than anything, Fundin watched over the young Prince like no one else and often, Thorin would seek his advice. Fundin's younger brother, Groin, was usually training with Thorin at the art of the forges and the art of battle, with axes, knives and swords or even bows and arrows, although Thorin hadn't any talent at the last ones. Sometimes Thorin's younger brother, Frerin, would join them and both older Dwarves admired the youngling's talent in long range weapons, as it was a rare skill amongst Dwarves.

The three older Dwarves came even closer after Thorin's eighteenth year passed and he wasn't crowned Prince, nor he received the honours of reaching adulthood. Even though the two brothers had their own families -especially Fundin had a two-year-old son, Balin- they both tried to comfort and support Thorin through this particularly tough period of his life and Thorin was eternally grateful for that.

He knew his friend was right… Thorin was daydreaming and thinking about _him_ again… The _elf_ … The Elven King… And he was angry… Fundin knew, he almost always was tense these days. Angry with his grandfather, with his mother, with his father, with the elf and with himself even! Nobody wished to give him any answer or explanation, but Thorin wasn't one that would sit by and watch as a pawn, while everybody else played the game of chess with their own terms.

'Why can't you tell me?!' he almost screamed in an outburst of pain and anger to his mother some days ago. 'I thought you of all people would understand, mother!' he shook his head, his gaze blazing with fire.

'Thorin, it's not that simple…' his mother raised a comforting hand but the young Prince jerked away.

'I don't understand, mother! It _is_ simple! I am almost nineteen! I want to know the truth! What really happened between grandfather and the Elven King and what does it have to do with me!?' his voice rising again. 'I thought I could trust you! I thought I could trust my _family_! But no! You all treat me like…like…' he stopped breathlessly in a small whisper, hoping he hadn't got over the line, as his mother's hurt gaze pierced him.

'Thorin…' this time he let her approach him and barely touch his shoulder with her tender palm.

'I just don't understand it, mother… I can't take it anymore… He looks at me as if _I_ am the enemy… As if I am an outsider… I was supposed to be his _grandchild_ …' the young prince continued, a tone of sadness and shame on his posture and inside his eyes… He felt his mother's slender fingers take some locks of his black hair and braid them in a soothing rhythm, while a silence descended into the room…

'I know it's difficult…' she hesitated, breaking the sacred silence for a moment… 'But… your grandfather wishes your own good…' she pressed her palm to her son's chest before he could speak again. 'If your father didn't wish this for you, he could have stopped his father but… things are more complicated than you might think…'

Thorin gave her a questioning glance and his dark blue eyes, shining like the night sky, drew a soft smile on her face… Oh, how proud she was of him… Her firstborn… No wonder the elf had chosen him… And then the words run through her lips without noticing them…

'A long time ago he blessed you… Before our Dwarven ceremony of welcoming you to the world, the Elven King of Greenwood blessed you with his trust and loyalty…'

Thorin's eyes widened and his lips parted in awe and surprise but also an excitement, unknown to his heart until that moment, started growing and moving his chest up and down like he had just run a marathon…

'But… but why… me?' he asked, barely keeping himself from shaking.

His mother tilted her head to the right and placed a new, well-made braid softly behind his ear. She could see why, but she certainly couldn't explain it…

'I don't know… But what I know is that no elf has ever blessed a dwarf or anyone outside of the elven race like that… You… my son… You are the one that will unite our kingdoms… Dwarves and Elves… once again…' her tone quiet, full of awe and pride, her eyes becoming wet and the awed expression of her son fading slowly in one of determination…

Thorin had left the room with so much gratitude for having his wise mother that day… His walks through Erebor became more often and suddenly, he would find himself wandering corridors in the deepest parts of the mountain… As if searching for something… And he was… His hope… His dreams… Yes, Thorin dreamt… He dreamt of the time when he would finally be able to get his answers… For the time he would finally see the beauty of the pale elf again… When he would finally ask why… what was special about him to be chosen like this…? How could he ever bring such a union between Elves and Dwarves, when he was not even a prince…? When he could ask what was special about the bow and the arrows in his quarters… Because yes that stunning living room where the Elven King was escorted by Thorin himself two years ago was the young Prince's quarters… And that was partially why Thror had been so furious and why he was so relieved -even in his blind anger- when he found the Elf and the Dwarf there, but fortunately, with a wise distance between them. Still Thror dread what would have happened if he hadn't entered at that point… But Thorin didn't mind what anyone thought anymore… He had more than enough time alone… To wish and dream whatever he wanted… And his thoughts lingered on a tall, white, shining figure more than anyone would deem wise…

* * *

On the other side of the river… Far away from the Lonely Mountain… Thranduil watched, as the days passed by, in agony… The alliance with Erebor shaking in his hands… The trade between the kingdoms weakening day by day… The greed of the Dwarven King growing and its shadow spreading over the land... The heart of the Elven King trembling as the news were scarce and his next meeting with Thror was always changing dates…

When the Elven King found out that Thorin's honour was in question after the incident and his crowning might never take place, he was furious. He almost got on his elk and rode to Erebor himself to question Thror's decision and defend the young rightful Prince… But he knew that to be unwise… and so he waited… still… In the shadows of his woodland realm… With the darkness of Dol Guldur growing in the forest… His Elves leaving for the Grey Heavens one by one… Unwillingly yes… But you are being called once… And you have one chance… Thranduil didn't blame them for trying to abandon this miserable world… Although, some of them knew that they would never be able to leave it behind… But yet, he couldn't… He needed to stay… His peace was there… Not beyond the sea… He felt it, somewhere in his troubled heart… Though deep down he knew… the testing of his heart's will… hadn't taken place yet…

* * *

 _Please read the first paragraph of the notes. It explains the date and time of the fic and it might help you understand why some names are coming and going and all ;) especially if you are not a Tolkien geek -because I wasn't that's why I researched all that stuff._

* * *

 **Age and Time of the fic: Just a bit of info on where we are now since I'm giving all these dates about Dol Guldur below and stuff. Right now, since Thorin was born in 2746 and he is about 19 years old, we are at 2765 of the Third Age of Middle Earth. Frerin was born in 2751 so he is about 14 and Dis was born in 2760 so she's about 5 years old. Balin was born in 2763 so he is 2. Fundin was born way back in 2662 so he is 103 and Groin was born in 2671 so he is 94. To be honest I thought Balin was older than Thorin and I had him in mind when writing this chapter but then I saw the dates and decided to put his father and uncle in my fic as it seemed so cute to have Thorin know the fathers of his Company later on (don't forget Groin is the father of Gloin and Oin). Dwalin was born in 2772, exactly one year after the Sack of Erebor from Smaug so now he is not born yet.**

 **Fundin and Groin: part of the secondary branch of Durin's line. Their father, Farin, and Thror were cousins as their fathers were brothers. However, Thror's father was the oldest and that's why Thror's line ruled over the Lonely Mountain. Fundin's name can be found in Voluspa, a collection of Old Norse poems, and means Found. He has two sons, Balin and Dwalin, both members of Thorin's Company to reclaim Erebor, while he himself was killed in the Battle of Azanulbizar to reclaim Moria after Smaug had taken Erebor. Groin's name is suggested to derive from the Old Norse word gróa, to-grow, meaning the Growing One. He has two sons also members of Thorin's Company, Gloin and Oin, and thus he is the grandfather of Gimli, Gloin's son. He was alive during the Sack of Erebor by Smaug and also during the war for Moria between Orcs and Dwarves and he died about 20 years before the Battle of the Five Armies, so maybe from natural causes.**

 **Balin and Dwalin: as far as we know, Tolkien didn't give an exact meaning to Balin's name but if derived from the Old Norse bál means Fire and so Balin means Burning One. We know him from the Hobbit as the elder brother of Dwalin (together as sons of Fundin: see above) and a member of Thorin's Company to reclaim Erebor later on, as well as the one who later managed to reclaim Moria for a short period of time and died defending it from Orcs and Goblins in 2994, before the Fellowship of the Ring found his grave. For Dwalin again, we are not certain for the origin of his name. Two words from the Old Norse that derive from the same root can be suggested as possible meanings: dvalen that means to-sleep and dvelja meaning to-delay. Both brothers were part of a secondary branch of Durin's line from their father -that's why Balin had the authority to claim back Moria as be known as the Last Lord of Moria- as their great-grandfather was the brother of Dáin the first, who was the great-grandfather of Thorin.**

 **Frerin: he was five years younger than Thorin and he would possibly be the next heir if Thror did not accept Thorin back (that only happens in my fic by the way, Tolkien never says Thror did something like that, Thorin was always his rightful heir). And about the use of arrows and all, I have planned something like that to go along the family -as Kili has a talent on that too later on and he is the son of Dis who was Thorin and Frerin's younger sister. Frerin has two possible meanings from the Old Norse, the dwarf-name Frár meaning Swift and the word frérinn meaning Frozen. He died in the Battle of Azanulbizar beside Fundin.**

 **Dol Guldur: meaning Hill of Sorcery in Sindarin or else known as Dungeons of the Necromancer. When Oropher ruled over the Silvan Elves in Greenwood the Great, the fortress at the south was their capital known as Amon Lanc. However, after 1050 of the Third Age an evil (Sauron, known as Necromancer) fell over the forest and it was then that it became known as Mirkwood. In 2063 Gandalf travelled to Dol Guldur and Sauron fled to the east as he was not yet powerful enough but by 2460 he returned there (because Smaug found the One Ring) and Dol Guldur became his stronghold while the Wood-Elves, led by Oropher's son, Thranduil, by now, had retreated to Thranduil's underground palace, deep in the north of the forest, beyond the magical river that protected them. As the darkness grew in Mirkwood only the golden Mist from Lothlorien kept it at bay, with the help of Lady Galadriel and her magical ring, one of the three. However, Thranduil was the only Elven Lord in Middle Earth that managed to keep his kingdom and later, at the end of the Third Age, fight against Sauron's forces without a magical ring to his aid.**


	7. Are the worst of all

**Demons**

Are the worst of all

Not three years had passed since Thranduil had last visited Erebor. The alliance wasn't broken, at least not yet, but any contact was minimized since that particular incident. After so much time Thranduil couldn't expect anything other than silence. He grew into his old habits of isolation and quiet studying in the library, his kingdom safe in the hands of his loyal guards and warriors. The old pain of the Elven King was slowly regaining its place into his heart and mind. He became a shadow under the old trees of his forest, walking under the starlight like a blur. The woodsmen often spoke in hushed tones about a silver deer wandering in the woods, uncatchable and swift as the wind. It was as if the trees were sheltering it from every danger when someone dared to chase it… The huntsmen of course knew better than to enter the Elvish kingdom searching for it. Some others said it was a fairy-like presence, that healed the forest from its inner darkness, spreading from the old fortress of the South, a light between the trees… The Elven King indeed spend his time in the forest with no sleep… Trying to heal his sacred garden… The trees of his father… And his heart… Overwhelmed from memory… But his hope for new memories, to take the past away, was fading… Until…

A rumour came from the Lonely Mountain… A rumour saying that Thror had found an ancient Elven treasure… Thranduil rolled his eyes at the piece of paper he was reading and decided that it was time to pay Erebor a visit. Whatever it was, that Thror had found, he should not have let this rumour spread… But the Elven King knew, his greed also gave Thror arrogance… In spite of all the signs, Thranduil hoped to make him listen to reason… But he never considered what the treasure was… and what else was waiting in Erebor for him…

The usual welcome took place in the gates of the mountain, although the Elven King noticed the uneasiness of the Dwarves and realized they knew… He felt it deep inside him… In their stares and the glimpses of hope that shone, when their eyes lingered on him… How could they know? And more importantly how could they let Thror rule them, since they knew?

When he entered the Throne room, the piercing gaze of Thror lingered on him, but Thranduil saw the madness in those eyes, shining like emeralds with greed… A madness that was not there, last time the Elven King had seen him…

'Welcome, my friend!' Thror urged to start the conversation, that would be later scratched and deleted from all Dwarven and Elven history books.

'King Thror…' Thranduil's whisper was followed by a small bow of his head and as no one spoke afterwards the Elven King continued speaking, louder this time 'I have come to offer my advice…'

Thror chuckled on his Throne and Thranduil almost hissed at this, but kept his composure steady and his voice calm.

'There were rumours, King of Erebor… and if they are true… You shouldn't have let them spread…' the decisiveness and authority in the Elven King's voice made the Dwarven King almost stand up, but… he didn't…

Instead the silence followed… Marked by the smell of fear and greed… Thranduil looked steadily into Thror's eyes, but they wavered looking away from the Elf's gaze… Because of shame and acknowledgement? Thranduil couldn't know… The Elven King was ready to speak his mind again but something stopped him… There… At the corner of the room… was Thorin… How could _he_ be present in such a meeting after Thror's punishment? A faint smile reached Thranduil's lips… Maybe he was regaining the King's favour after all… But this didn't last for long… As Thranduil watched, many were entering the Throne room… It was as if planned… This wasn't a private council anymore… The Elven King remained still, calm, his cold gaze meeting Thror's again…

A small movement of the Dwarven King's hand… Footsteps… A chest… Thranduil was in a state were everything seemed like a dream… He watched as _it_ was brought to him… The gaze of the Dwarf caring it was full of guilt and he shared a sympathetic look with the Elven King before fixing his gaze to the floor and opening the small chest…

Light… That was all Thranduil could see… Light… The pure light of stars… A blessing… Beauty… Thranduil's vision blurred and he was faced with the unbearable desire to take that light… Hold it in his hand… Keep it there… Only for himself… Protected… He almost shook his head, to get these thoughts out of his mind and his eyes finally focused on it…

The chest… The wooden chest… and inside it… That light… White starlight… Pure star-jewels… No… This could not be… It was lost forever… Buried beneath the earth itself… His lips formed a mocking smile and he laughed… Oh, yes… He did laugh at Thror. Inside Erebor. An Elven treasure? Rumours? How foolish he had been… This was meant for _him_ … and for him only… His eyes glistening… his heart burning with anger… How dare _he_ , a _Dwarf_ , do this? _How?_

Completely losing contact with his surroundings -except Thror and the chest- the Elven King raised a hand, took just a small white gem and held it out, in front of his eyes, between the Throne -where the greedy King sat- and himself…

'This!? This is your precious Elven treasure!?'

Thror hadn't expected neither the laughter nor this voice, sparkling with fury and pure hatred into his ears. He sat back at his Throne and tried… _tried_ to remain calm… This really had shaken the dragon-sickness from his heart and Thror was almost wondering why he showed the chest to the Elven King of Mirkwood in the first place…

'Yes, it is' despite his surprise the Dwarven King's voice was powerful but Thranduil just tilted his head in disgust 'A treasure befitting of the wealth of Erebor!'

He didn't know how he managed to control himself after that, but when he heard Thror's voice for the second time, the Elven King almost sighed with relief because it wasn't changed from greed as everything else on the Dwarven King was. This realisation shook him to the core, his anger almost evaporated and he immediately turned his back, after a last deadly stare on the proud Dwarven King, and left the room with his mind fighting its own self… Tearing up dream after dream… Crossing temptation after temptation on a list… Fighting against the desire of the heart… But a heart controlled by the mind for so long… What could be possibly done…? Self-destruction… The memories rushed in and their fire refused to be put out this time… Thranduil almost chuckled on his way through the Dwarven halls… Yes… That is what it was… And it had started…

* * *

No one had ever seen the Elven King lose his temper and his cold calmness in Erebor before. Which is why no one disturbed him after he locked himself in his room and didn't let not even an Elf to enter. Thorin had seen the Elven King, he so longed for, once more, but he was left awed and confused… What he had seen… The pale blue eyes filled with fire… The almost always graceful and serene form, stilled like a rock and the pale long hair seeming like flames of a fiery volcano instead of waterfalls of a forest river… How could that be possible? He knew he didn't know the Elven King well enough, but he had dreamed of seeing him one more time for so long… He had dreamed of asking the questions he so much longed for their answers… Yet this wasn't what he had imagined…

* * *

A silent knock on the door and Thranduil sighed… His head lowered. His palms holding his forehead tightly, like it was about to break and the Elven King fought to keep the bones in place. He didn't answer… He had found the courage to unlock the door some time ago. Deep into the night, he stayed still… The flames of the fireplace playing with his thoughts… Whoever it was outside his room could easily enter. And the Elven King didn't care what the intruder's intensions could possibly be. The door cricked open and silence fell… Thranduil could feel the intruder's eyes studying him… But he didn't raise his gaze… Finally, a low voice filled the room and for a moment the Elven King's heart filled with unspeakable warmth...

'May I come in…?' was all that the Dwarven Prince could utter, stunned by the sight in front of him, as he stood at the door opening…

Thorin's eyes had fallen on a broken figure. His mind registered the image but couldn't connect it with the tall graceful Elf entering Erebor a few hours ago. Yet, when he saw the shadows playing with long silky hair… Elegant fingers placed on the Elf's forehead with strain… Then he knew for sure… This was indeed the Elven King… What had changed him so much? Thorin couldn't know…

The darkness of the room breaking only from the faint flames, their shadows dancing on the walls… Not getting an answer, the Dwarven Prince approached slowly and sat by the desperate figure, quietly watching him… When the fire fainted completely and an ashen white remained at the fireplace, when the stars where the only thing keeping them company, when Thorin could not see any more the elegant features of the Elf beside him… Only then Thranduil let his cold voice fill the air, making Thorin shiver. He could easily relate his shivering to the cold night and the open windows, but he didn't. The Elven King always had the chambers that would be provided to him and his companions, while staying at Erebor, to have windows. Elves, and especially the Silvan, couldn't do without the light of the stars at night. The Elven King however could easily find the even brighter light of gems, deep inside the mountain, more entrancing, but with time he had obtained some Silvan traditions and beliefs, while his father was still alive… He had learned to appreciate the ways of his father's citizens in a way his father never had the chance to do. Still, Thranduil even now, could easily accuse him that it was because of his pride and ambition, birth traits of their kin… Although he himself couldn't say that he hadn't inherited the greed of the Sindar… That was obviously proven today…

Thorin in the end admitted to himself that his shiver came from the fact that, the Elven King of Mirkwood had never spoken to the Dwarven Prince with such coldness before…

'What do you want?' there it sounded… his voice… strange from the long hours of silence…

'…Answers…' the Prince whispered trying to not seem pleading or needy…

A small chuckle full of poison escaped the Elf's lips… 'To what questions…?'

'I think you know…' the tone made the Elf freeze, letting his hands fall from his face… Thorin gazed into the two glimmering orbs full of starlight that pierced him…

'Nobody ever told you, did they?' a small flame of rage growing into Thranduil's chest, 'They thought hiding you and never telling you the truth would always keep you away from…' he forced himself to stop abruptly…

Thorin was startled at how quickly the Elven King's voice had filled with anger and how his eyes were shining with fire. He reconsidered if actually this was a good idea… If his grandfather found out again… But he stopped his thoughts.

'Away from what…?' he insisted… But now Thranduil's eyes were closed and his breathing became quicker and fainter…

'You expect me to answer to _you_ … After what your grandfather just did…?' the poison filling every word but Thorin could feel… It was not meant for him…

'And what did he do…? Show you some jewellery?' the Young Prince didn't mean for those words to sound harsh… after all, he had seen how much the event had made Thranduil suffer… but they did… and Thorin wasn't expecting the reaction either…

Thranduil was standing in a matter of seconds and his hand was grabbing hard at the Prince's clothes, just under his neck, while the Elven figure leaned in, until their noses were almost touching. Thorin could smell and feel the threat into his bones…

'What… Did you… Say!?' uttered the elf breathlessly, his voice filled with rage.

Thorin was breathing heavily. He had never been so close to the Elven King before… He had never been that close to anyone before… Nobody outside family anyway. The feeling was so thrilling… and so wonderful… Suddenly Thorin found himself relaxing, instead of being as intense as possible, ignoring the threat of Elvish fingers on his throat… Breathing in deeply, to fully absorb the smell of the Elf's clothes… of his body… his air… And then suddenly, he closed his eyes and smiled, as his heart filled with peace…

The Dwarven Prince felt Thranduil's grip loosen ever so slightly and opened his eyes to gaze into starlight grey ones, that seemed blue in the darkness of the night… Except now… Those eyes seemed… Confused…? Thorin felt himself grin and whispered in a low, tender tone…

'That's what I mean… I want answers…' and with a firm movement, Thranduil found himself sitting again beside the Young Prince, with his lips trapped firmly by the clever ones of Thorin, the Dwarven Prince of Erebor…

* * *

 **General Explanations: The gems of Thranduil's wife is what Thror had found of course but I have planned a little twist there so don't expect the same story with Pete's movies explanation ;) The dwarves actually didn't make them -at least not Thror's generation- they found them inside the mountain along with something else as you will see in the upcoming chapters. As for Oropher's weaknesses (ambition and pride) it was my thought that Thrandy should take his pride from somewhere although in this fic he uses it only as a defense policy (or anyway even in the movies I always thought he was defending himself by being cold and prideful and all so I put that thought here) and as for his 'greed' it is also mentioned in the Hobbit (the book) that he had a weakness for jewellery and I connected that with his Sindar inheritance because of the Silmarils although they are not exactly canonically connected in Tolkien.  
**


	8. And the blood's run stale

**Demons**

And the blood's run stale

His eyes opened suddenly gazing into the dark… His heart hammering inside his chest. He stayed completely still through the night until everything was painted pitch black. Such hour was only fit for what he had to do… The darkest hour before the dawn… He slowly moved through the shadows unseen and unfelt, standing up, leaving a dark figure lying on the couch; still. A faint movement gave the inclination of soft breaths. He left the room confused, seeking advice only one person could provide… Or rather… One lonely soul…

Travelling through the mountain's corridors was easy. Although he always complained they were built like a maze, those paths he knew well. The dark paths of the dead… No Dwarf had ever walked there before. They had barged in like wild animals leaving behind them broken rock... The blood of the mountain running to their forges with no other choice… Sacred places being raped from their axes… Still, it was the mountain's choice to give them such a sacred gift… Why?

Back when he was visiting the secret halls of the ancient mountain he dared not look at it when it was right in front of him because tears would come in his eyes. He knew _it_ had appeared for them… If they had found those pure jewels of starlight _it_ must have appeared to them too… Who was the mountain favouring? And when did Thror plan to announce he had found it? Finally he found what he was looking for. He kneeled… and prayed… Begging for advice… for a path he could follow… He knew nothing anymore… He was confused… So confused…

'What shall I do? I don't know what to do…'

Trembling despair. He waited and waited until he felt the stars fade without seeing them. He was ready to return to harsh reality but…

* * *

Flame… Ruin… Blood… Quick flashes through the mind. Fire… Wrath… Blood… People screaming through the night. Red… So much red… A city falling to pieces… Air thundering through the battlements… Death… So much death… A golden gate shattered… Emeralds and rubies scattered… Panic… Anger… Sorrow… A distant light turning away… Calls for help but no answer heard… Despair… Betrayal… Shame… Foolishness… Blood… Death… Everywhere... Fire! Everything burning… Trees cracking as if a roaring beast has just caught its hunt. Ashes… Confusion… Where was everyone? Where? Birds… Run! Run! They were screaming… The sky getting dark… The sun disappearing… The moon becoming red from blood and fire! Blood! Fire!

* * *

Thorin gasped. His head between his palms pressing at his ears. Oh, the screaming… Screaming… He had woken up so suddenly but he was grateful for it. His eyes focused and he realized he was sitting up on a couch… _Whose couch?_ His breath was caught in his throat. The screaming again… He stood up and paced around trying to ignore his headache… and the screaming… Then he remembered. He was in the Elven King's chambers! 'By Mahal!' he thought and looked around, but the Elf himself was nowhere to be seen. It was nearly dawn. Thorin thought of going back to his quarters in case his father decided to pay him a visit early in the morning but he voted against it. He would wait stubbornly for the Elven King. He sat down again and tried to rest, but his dream couldn't leave him alone… So he just stayed still; screams in his ears, fire and ashes in his eyes…

When Thranduil appeared he walked straight to his bedroom slamming the door behind him; not even noticing the Dwarven Prince still sitting on the couch. He started packing his bags for his return to Mirkwood which he hoped could be arranged as soon as possible. He was frantic, hands trembling, a frown drawn by his eyebrows above his concerned eyes. The door cricked and the Elven King turned in a blink of an eye, his Elvish knife at hand right at the neck of the intruder.

They stood like this for a long moment -both startled- before the Elf's hand fell to his side.

'Oh…' was the only thing he managed to say and to Thorin it sounded much like a disappointed "You still here?".

Then the Dwarven Prince saw the Elf's wrist struggling to keep the knife steady, even though it was hanging to his side. Was he trembling? Was the Elven King trembling? Thranduil caught his gaze and slid the knife back to its place while letting his hands get busy with gathering his Elven robes.

'What are you doing?' asked the Dwarven Prince after the short unnerving silence that had fallen to the room.

'What does it look like I'm doing?' snapped the Elven King, his frown deeper.

'You can't be…' Silence.

'Leaving?' finished Thranduil 'Oh yes, I am.' more harshly than intended 'And I'm not going to answer to you about it.' added with voice shaking slightly.

Thorin overcame his surprise at the last remark quickly and closed in the distance between them seeking an explanation. _Did Thorin just touched him ever so slightly?_ , was all the Elven King could think of, steading himself and turning to face the Young Prince inches away.

'Are you alright?' the worried tone struck Thranduil like a slap, nobody ever cared or even noticed if he was alright… But he met the prince's eyes with defiance and noted stubbornness.

'Since when do you care?' the hurt look in those blue orbs in front of him almost made Thranduil plead for forgiveness but he resisted stubbornly... again.

'We…' Thorin shook his head and continued 'How can you just leave? We haven't talked about this yet…' the 'this' he was referring to, was obviously their so-called relationship that was probably doomed even from the time the Young Prince was a child.

'I must…' was the cold response but Thorin knew the emotions hidden behind that mask and moved closer… Getting into another's room in the middle of the night and confronting him was something entirely different than claiming that someone again when the morning came and that's exactly why Thorin was shivering and of course why Thranduil was stunned and was standing completely still with wide eyes in front of him, as if struck by lightning. Their lips brushed and both let small gasps escape, the feeling so enchanting that a moment later they had fallen into each other's arms almost desperately and had almost fallen on the bed beside them.

'Fine… I'll stay… Only for some days…' was the soft response that escaped the Elf's lips when they finally parted. Thorin smiled but didn't say anything for the time being. The Elven King caught his concerned gaze and whispered 'But something else concerns you…'

'I just…' the Young Prince sighed and gave up 'I just had a nightmare before I woke up…'

'Nightmare?' Thranduil almost choke 'What nightmare?' he insisted and continued more softly when the Dwarven Prince met his eyes with confusion, intrigued. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…' but he was caught off by the Prince.

'No, it's alright…' he hesitated but continued. 'It was… fire… and ashes and… death… so much death… I… I don't know…'

'Don't say another word.' Instinctively the Elven King's fingers had travelled to the Prince's lips and then he spoke as if speaking to himself out loud 'This wasn't a dream… Oh, no…'

'What is it?' Thorin gasped softly as the divine touch of Thranduil's fingers had caught him off guard and then his words filled him with curiosity.

'Nothing!' Thranduil said with authority that Thorin hadn't found the courage to oppose yet when he was presented with it so suddenly. The Elven King led him to the door and then the next door murmuring worriedly 'You must return to your chamber before they notice you're missing. Now! And don't say anything to anyone about this dream, I beg of you! Not even your mother…'

'But… Thr-'

'Shhh!' said Thranduil while opening the door that was leading to the corridor 'Promise me!' whispered demanding a positive answer. Thorin seeing his shaken and nervous expression sighed resigned and nodded soundlessly, his eyes meeting the Elven King's with honesty. Thranduil nodded back and although he did not say a word, Thorin knew he was inviting him for later discussion and maybe more than an innocent kiss this time… So he waved him goodbye and silently run through the corridors to his own room, unnoticed...

At the other side of the door the Elven King of Mirkwood slid down to the floor and curled up with his arms around his knees and his head between them trying to keep calm when images of blood and fire run in front of his eyes… Blood… and fire… A Dragon's fire…

 **Clarification: Thrandy can't see the future. He can sense some things with what has remained of the power of the Eldar inside him but he can't see the future. The vision came to him because of the sacred place he went which is a part of a plot twist. As of why Thorin saw the vision too that is also a noncanon plot twist. You'll have to wait and see XD**


	9. I wanna hide the truth

**Demons**

I wanna hide the truth

'Where were you?!' his mother almost screamed falling into his arms and for a moment he stayed silent hoping to avoid the question, 'I was so worried…' realising he wasn't going to speak she put her son at arm's length and looked intensely into his eyes 'Thorin….!' She gasped worriedly.

'Mother… I'm alright… I'll explain everything…' Thorin spoke in hushed tones, his head spinning.

'Where _were_ you?' she asked with a motherly but authoritative tone 'Are you alright?' she added brushing his sweaty forehead with her palm.

'I am... I am… Just…' he tried to find an excuse but couldn't. His eyesight blurred. He was burning up. He felt his mother guide him to his bed and covering him with blankets but it felt awfully warm under them. Then she left… He just hoped she wouldn't bring his father or grandfather…

* * *

Thranduil walked down the corridors to the dining hall for breakfast. Yesterday evening's events seeming a bad dream. He knew very well it wasn't a dream but he had other matters to consider. Like… What to say to Thorin when they met again this evening or what he would do if he met him during the day, if he should tell him the truth about the intense dream the young dwarf had -truly being _Thranduil's_ vision inside the most sacred part of the mountain- if he should ever tell him how _much_ he knew about the mountain that dwarves didn't dare to dream of, what he felt about what was happening between them and how the vision complicated that or what the wisest choice would be or… The Elven King forced himself to stop thinking and entered the dining room. Fortunately, Thorin wasn't there… But Thrain was.

'Good morning…' was Thranduil's only remark when Thrain approached him and it actually left Thrain by surprise as he was expecting to be murdered right on the spot by the graceful Elf King.

'Um… Morning…' he replied with a certain amount of hesitance that just made Thranduil grin which in turn made Thrain even more confused.

'So…' the Elven King started after a long while of them eating silently 'If I understand correctly… your son has not yet been crowned prince?' his tone hid as much mockery as possible along with his familiar coldness. He couldn't risk Thorin losing his chance of becoming King of Erebor because of what was going on between them and he wanted to ensure his potential of becoming Prince before he told him anything final about their…relationship?

'Mmmmyes…' mumbled Thrain between his teeth careful as he was still confused with the Elven King's behaviour.

Thranduil nodded grinning slightly and waited not wanting to seem anymore interested.

'But his grandfather is reconsidering it and since his behaviour has been… improved…' and he threw right in that phrase his disagreement with his father's choice about punishing his own grandson 'I think he will announce his crowning somewhere during the next month.'

'Mmm!' Thranduil exclaimed and receiving a weird look from Thrain he continued 'Good for him… Good for the kingdom… Much more…' he stopped, as if thinking hard about it 'Stable…'

Thrain knew this was an insult, but despite his usual snapping at anyone who would dare insult his family and kingdom, he kept silent, driven by curiosity at what was the Elven King's goal and why was he acting so… strangely…

After a long pause, Thrain playing with his food and Thranduil's annoying grinning, the next heir to the throne of Erebor smirked to himself… 'Wait until you know what else we found in the deep of our mountain, dear Elf…' thought to himself in order to avoid thinking about the Elven King's insulting manner and keep himself calm… Then the most terrifying thing ever happened… Thrain turned to lock his gaze with the Elven King in defiance but the look he received from the Elf was full of certainty and content. As if he knew… As if he knew all…

Indeed, Thranduil knew… But he was more concerned about it than he appeared to be and so he stood up waving a small good day at Thrain -who stood still as if he had seen a ghost- and paced quickly back towards his quarters. If Thorin's crowning was to take place next month then Thranduil was sure Thror had found _it_ … and more importantly he would announce everything about it… Before or even _at_ Thorin's crowning… To honour the kingdom… and their new Prince… Their new Prince! That was it! Thranduil stopped in the middle of the corridor startled… What if… the mountain… He had to discover if this was true… He had to! So he resumed pacing even more quickly towards him rooms.

But his plans for the day were about to be thrown overboard as he met with a very upset and nervous Dwarven Queen on his way.

'My Lady?' he gasped startled as she had almost fell on him when she turned towards the corridor he was walking.

'My Lord! Oh! Thank Mahal! I found you!' she tried to speak between rushed breaths. Her forgetfulness of any curtesy and her abrupt tone immediately worrying Thranduil.

'My Lady, is something wrong?' he tried to steady her by holding her arms. His heart beating faster. What had happened? Was Thorin alright?

'Follow me.' She managed to whisper after a while and started running through corridors and secret passages leading the Elven King to, of course, Thorin's room.

When he finally understood where she was guiding him Thranduil's heart beat a little faster with worry but he told himself there was nothing to worry about. He knew how much a lie that was…

They entered the Prince's bedchamber and Thranduil stood immobile at the door not able to believe what he was seeing. Thorin was lying on his bed… Pale… Shivering… Sweating… All at the same time… And above all… He was whispering a name… Thranduil's name… The Queen, far from the shy woman he once knew, was already beside the bed placing a wet cloth onto her son's forehead. She turned to him and spoke with steady voice, fitting of a Queen, and suddenly the Elven King of Mirkwood knew why Thrain had chosen her and how she managed to bring to life such a stubborn son for the love of Mahal!

'King Thranduil, please…' she turned towards her son again with worry in her eyes 'He's been like this all morning and I cannot ask for any help since he's…' she swallowed… 'He's whispering your name since he closed his eyes…' her gaze lowered, not questioning him why was her son like this, but the Elven King knew she would figure it out one way or another…

Thranduil without speaking approached the bed where Thorin was lying and stood right where his head was resting… He probably knew what caused this but if he was wrong… He saw the Prince's mother watching him intently and he sighed whispering some Elvish prayer before raising his hand… His elegant fingers moved in a delicate and precise way as if performing some kind of a ritual and then slowly he let his hand fall until his index and thumb were touching the young prince's temples and after a few seconds he withdrew it gently. Thranduil saw the eyes of the future Queen looking at him wide open and gave her a faint smile before letting his gaze fall. The young Dwarven Prince was now peacefully resting at his warm bed.

'He should be asleep for another few hours… He will be alright…' the Elven King whispered and stayed still for a few more moments. Then he turned away and started walking to the door.

'Wait!' her commanding voice stopped him and he glanced back at her, his eyes wavered to her son and for a moment lingered there and a sigh left his lips, knowing this didn't go unnoticed.

'Forgive me but I must leave… I doubt anyone would find it pleasurable to find _me_ here… And it could ruin his…' hesitation… 'the Prince's life…' he corrected.

'But what should I tell them…?' she said and Thranduil suspected she was keeping him there on purpose… Maybe to find out more about what was going on, although she might already have enough evidence of the answer.

'Tell them he spent all night out, sword fighting, and he caught a cold…' he sighed… 'I reckon he does that a lot doesn't he?'

It was a mockery tone. But not towards the young prince… She noticed and nodded waving him that he could leave but without offering her thanks… She knew he could tell from her eyes… It was a small unspoken deal they made… She would be eternally grateful that her son was safe because of King Thranduil and so she wouldn't say anything about what he had _done_ to cure the Young Prince… He smiled faintly, tiredly as if the air was all taken from his lungs and he had to hold his breath, and then he turned without any goodbyes and left the room almost running.

Finally, the Elven King entered his rooms and collapsed on his couch exactly like he had done the day before after his meeting with the sick Dwarven King. What he had just done… He crouched there and tried to warm himself as the fireplace wasn't lit and obviously no one had tried to make a fire like they usually did for him in Erebor. Perhaps they thought he was still locked in there alone. But instead he had just spent a great amount of his energy on a healing spell and the stony walls never helped in keeping inside the warmth of the day. He tried to control his breathing almost desperately seeking for the warmth of the body that was with him last night but he shook his head thinking that exhaustion was the cause of such thoughts.

* * *

Thranduil had spent some hours like this, before he could finally stand up and make a fire for himself. Then he sat down again and while watching the flames and the flares flying around, his mind started making some sense. What he knew for sure, now that the healing spell had worked, was that Thorin somehow in the little time they had spent together in their lives had developed a connection to him. As a result of that particular spiritual connection Thorin could communicate with the Elf. He surely did not control it, he didn't know how and that's why the moments were completely random, like Thranduil's vision that the Dwarf saw as a nightmare. Perhaps if Thranduil had spent more time with the Young Prince while he was growing up he could evaluate and understand this connection and perhaps today's events would never have happened. But this was not an option anymore… Now Thranduil would have to make do and control himself as much as possible in order to not let the Young Prince slide into his thoughts once again. As Thorin couldn't control it, this kind of incidents could have catastrophic results like this deadly fever today… and Thranduil didn't want that. He was actually afraid of what could happen to the Prince in that case because _he_ would be responsible for it. He was responsible for everything. He knew. This small sacred touch and the words he had spoken so many years ago above a new born Dwarfling…

What could have enacted this connection though…? Thranduil wasn't sure… It could be their shared moments the previous night? Or the will of the mountain…? Because the Elven King saw a connection to the mountain with his Elven eyes more clearly than anything else… The mountain had showed him the vision after all… He would have to make sure that the appearance of the jewels and of what, he could foresee would bring such peril to the mighty Dwarven Kingdom… Had one thing in common… Thorin… One thing was certain though… The particular healing spell he had performed wouldn't have worked if the Young Prince and the Elven King himself weren't each other's… He stopped thinking… His mind empty… Connected, yes, that's what he meant to say… If they weren't connected in some way nobody could understand… Yes, Thranduil was insisting inside his mind… Nobody could understand… _Yet…_ The small word popped in his head and he waved it away. What he needed now was decisiveness… That's all… and strength… To tell Thorin the truth… Yes, he must tell him… He was hiding in the shadows long enough… But… Thranduil's eyes filled with sadness and peril… He must also protect him…

 **I contemplated on whether adding explanatory notes... um... I'l just post some general stuff since almost nothing that happens is actually written to be possible in canon Tolkien but I take inspiration from Beren and Luthien and how they could accomplish almost anything with their bond basically.**

 **So generally Elves married only once in their lifetime. Dwarves we're not so sure but both races regarded love as sacred (as most of the races in Tolkien). So in that concept we have some extraordinary stories of love such as Beren and Luthien, Aragorn and Arwen, etc. So taking from that we can have the concept of 'your One' meaning your One and only love through all your life, kind of soulmates also. I don't want to override Thranduil's love for his wife because she truly was his One. I simply want to connect it to his love for Thorin so you'll see how that goes on in next chapters. Thorin obviously hasn't loved anyone erotically before so yeah, Thranduil is his One.**

 **Love plays a very important role in Tolkien's stories but I haven't found exact quotation on 'your One' concept but if you have please you're welcome to send me a link :)**


	10. I wanna shelter you

**Demons**

I wanna shelter you

Thorin woke up in the middle of the night. He didn't remember how he got there or what had happened or how much time he had been there either… He sat up and his head started spinning. His palm instinctively grabbed on the pillow in an attempt to steady himself. Something cracked faintly under the pillow. Concentrating and making sure his eyesight and balance were able to work with him in this, he sat at the edge of the bed and searched under his pillow until he found a small piece of paper. He unfolded it and realizing it was a small note he took the lit candle beside his bed and started reading.

' _Thorin,_

 _Prince of Erebor,_

 _I am sorry that it came to this but since you are unconscious for three whole days now and finally tired of avoiding your grandfather I had to attend to other urgent business at my kingdom. Talk to your mother. You will see me soon._

 _The Elven King of Mirkwood,_

 _Thranduil'_

There it was… and Thorin couldn't believe it… He read the small note many times but he couldn't find it in himself to throw it away with anger or disappointment. What kind of a goodbye was that? Thorin read it again and again while two fingers were playing with the curls of his hair nervously. Thranduil was calling him _Prince_. Was this ironic? He couldn't know… He surely wasn't a Prince… Not anymore… His grandfather's mood hadn't improved… Not in the slightest. Plus Thranduil had promised him to stay a few more days in order to decide what was going on between them and what they should do. Now Thorin felt hurt and slightly betrayed. How the Elven King dared to give him orders on what to do next was another matter. What _talk-to-your-mother_ was supposed to mean? Talk to his mother about what exactly? Was she supposed to help him figure out what was going on? Well if this was Thranduil's plan, it couldn't possibly work, and Thorin was burning again but not from fever. As for the _you-will-see-me-soon_ promise… Thorin knew that nowadays his grandfather invited the Elves a little less than once a year! How was Thorin supposed to see the Elf soon? But still he couldn't throw the paper away or do anything else, but hold it in front of his eyes… or against his beating heart…

Knowing that no answer would come to his questions even if he shouted them in all the halls of Erebor he lied back to his bed and sighed with the note folded neatly inside his fist, resting above his chest… His eyes found the ceiling that stared back through the darkness and as he could not sleep anymore he started thinking of what had happened and caused him to fall unconscious, what had occurred in these three days and if it had something to do with Thranduil calling him a _Prince_. At some point he unfolded the note again and read it so many times that Thranduil's writing style was imprinted in the inside of his eyelids. At least there was one thing he could understand personally… Although it sounded insulting. The need for the Elven King to avoid his grandfather was purely understood and respected from the point where Thorin stood at the moment… the same point he was standing for more than two years now…

The Dwarven Prince sighed and closed his eyes until finally an uneasy sleep came to help him pass the time, up to the point when the sun dawned from somewhere opposite the general direction of the Woodland realm…

* * *

Thranduil was standing sleepless at his window observing the sun rising from the east… His mind overwhelmed with worry… He hadn't predicted it would take so long for Thorin to wake up… Eventually he had to leave for his realm as murmurs spread through Erebor that King Thranduil had almost forgotten the insult of the Dwarven King for something else entirely… Nobody knew what that something was, but many pry eyes would seek and were more than eager to find out… Sooner or later their search might come to an end… So the Elven King left Erebor against his will… He hoped the note wasn't too bold but he hadn't the time to compose a whole letter nor he dared to, for something like that could easily be detected by the clever eyes of the Queen… Although Thranduil trusted her… and that's why he urged Thorin to speak with her… He hoped she would explain only what was necessary for the Young Prince to understand…

'Ada?' the Elven King was so focused on his thoughts that the light footsteps of his son approaching had gone unnoticed by his Elvish ears. He turned and smiled wearily at the young Elf in front of him and he received a worried glance in return.

'I am alright, Legolas…' he rushed to reassure with a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes. His son was always so protective over him but he didn't usually show it so openly. This protectiveness was mutual and not only because of the father and son relationship. It was mainly because they shared more than the elegant and strong appearance of their bodies or the colour of their eyes. They shared a loss… The loss of Legolas' mother… When the King of the Woodland Realm would dare to observe his son's hair, his bearing, his gentle movements with the bow, the light of his eyes when he spoke… He was always reminded of her… Legolas was used to this look by now and he received it as fatherly love but now… Now the grey eyes passed through him and fell to the floor thoughtfully without any emotional change… And that's what worried him the most… Truth be told Thranduil had his thoughts fixed on something or _someone_ else entirely… And his eyes longed to gaze at only one person… Or rather… one particular dwarf…

'Adar… What troubles you?' Legolas approached his father carefully with a serious tone this time… He once thought his father's parting was close… That the time for him to become King and to wave his goodbye to his father who would leave for the Grey Heavens was drawing near… Legolas was always shadowed by grief at this thought… But then suddenly something had changed into his father's eyes… There was a sparkle in them Legolas had never noticed before… That's why these last few decades Legolas was even more protective over him. His heart rejoiced as his father had chosen to remain with him, no matter what his reasons were, but the Young Elf Prince was often lost in thought trying to find out what had changed him… Never receiving any answers… And now his father was acting even more strangely… In a way Legolas couldn't interpret at all…

'Nothing troubles me, ion nin...' Thranduil spoke shaking his head slightly, sceptical, not noticing his son's glare…

'Adar… You are being thoughtful, you didn't eat or sleep but you say you are well since we returned…?' Legolas insisted.

'I am just thinking…' Thranduil turned to look at the sun once more and steadied himself at the parapet with his hair, golden in the rising sun, run free like sunrays around him…

'About what happened there…?' the tone was soft, his son's eyes falling towards the mountain, yet the Elven King sighed and played with the idea of telling his son the truth… Finally a small inclination with his head and his son was right beside him… 'Father… Do you still go to _it_? Do you still remember the path?'

'I do remember… How could I ever forget…? But I have given up on visiting a long time ago… Dwarves might see… Dwarves might find it… I was telling to myself that if I stopped going… It would stay buried forever…' now the proud head of the Elven King was hanging in front of him in defeat… He had finally realized what had really happened in those stony halls… He had finally accepted it… The Young Dwarf Prince had kept his mind occupied all these days that the Elven King didn't even think about what had happened seriously… Now… There was nothing left to do… He could not protect what was his anymore… His sacred heart…

'That's why you didn't ever take me there… Not even once…' Legolas whispered, fighting the instinct of placing a comforting hand over his father's shoulders…

'Yes…' his father nodded…his voice fading…

Silence fell between them and the sun kept rising until the clouds high above them blocked its light… The forest fell silent as well and a soft drizzling rain started to fall on the already weeping trees…

* * *

 **Elvish translations:**  
 **Adar = Father**  
 **Ion nin= my Son**


	11. But with the beast inside

**Demons**

But with the beast inside

In the following weeks, Legolas had confronted his father once more˙ troubled by the fact that even after his confession, the burden he was carrying was visible into his eyes. The anxiety made him take hasty decisions -which Legolas was always there to reconsider alongside him- and the obvious disappointment in the King's eyes as the days went by, was also always noted by the Prince.

'Father… There is more to it, isn't there?' started Legolas one afternoon, displaying his arguments clearly and demanding an answer 'The mountain has a will of its own… Like the trees… You cannot contain it. Father… There must be something! If the mountain chose to-' he was cut off by one of his father's deadly stares, which immediately melted into a soft smile and a reassuring pat in the shoulder. It didn't comfort Legolas at all.

Thranduil almost wanted to shout with strain "Don't you think I know that?!" but instead took a deep breath and replied to his beloved son.

'You are wise, ion nin. But this time… I will ask you to leave this to me. Let the mountain show us what it wants… You are right. It revealed itself for a reason. We will find out. I promise I won't be so grumpy and nervous about it…' the Elven King's smile grew slightly, while his head tilted to the left, watching his son intently.

Legolas nodded and grumpily turned away and left, again without any answers but with even more questions. How did his father expect him to stand by and watch as their heirloom was taken away from them? As their sacred halls were shattered? He had lost a mother too! His father shouldn't be the only one to deal with this. Yet his words… it was as if he knew something already… Legolas wished to know but instead he showed the patience that was a common characteristic of the family and buried those questions deep inside him, promising to himself that eventually his father would reveal everything to him… One day…

Soon after that day, a dwarf messenger arrived at Mirkwood with a decent invitation from Erebor. Thranduil grinned pleased. Finally, after so much waiting! He did not yet see how much more waiting he would have to deal with in his long life. The Young Dwarf Prince's crowning was finally to take place. Thorin deserved this honour more than any Dwarf that ever lived in Erebor. Thranduil knew that most of all -having met generations of kings and queens. Yet only now their Kingdom had started to prosper, about two generations before Thror, a relatively small time in an Elven life. _BUT_ … His heart grew cold as he remembered what else would the invitation be about… Thror also claimed to have found a jewel like no other, the heart of the mountain itself, that meant his kingship was blessed… and that Mirkwood, like every other ally Kingdom around Erebor, would have to pay for the Dwarves' support and friendship. The Elven King clenched his jaw and the Dwarven messenger coughed softly in the awkward silence, uncomfortably pinned by the King's gaze. Thranduil knew Thror's claim to be true… but the jewel had not come for him! He had no right to touch it and even less to ask a price for it! He rose in pure rage and the messenger almost fainted at the fiery glare he received. He took a step back bracing himself to be shown out quite violently but then Thranduil sighed. It was no use. He had to endure this even if it was for a small amount of time.

Suddenly time though seemed less and less for him. It was as if he didn't have time. He was immortal yet bound to a mortal being even through such purity of emotion made his heart weaker by the minute. He didn't have time and he was wasting it. No immortal was ever prone to feeling the urgency of time. They always had time. But Thranduil suddenly felt thin and shaken. This should be over soon, otherwise he didn't know what else to do. He would have to disappoint the hopes of his son and their people. He would have to leave them. No. That was not happening any time soon. The Elven King shook these thoughts away and adopting his completely cold manner gave the invitation back at the dwarf and spoke between gritted teeth.

'Tell your _King_ , that I accept his invitation… with all its… _complications_ …'

* * *

Back at Erebor, Thorin, now Prince, was resting on a chair in front of a meeting table. With his eyes closed he waited for the rest of the council to come, while he revelled in his thoughts… These past few weeks were hectic. He didn't have time to even talk with his friends or with his family. He only saw them at dinner, or in the case of his father, at council meetings. There were also other urgent matters, that had to be taken care of, since the day of the King's decision to finally accept him as a Prince of Erebor. Still there was something else in all this that bothered him. He had tried to talk with his mother about _him,_ but he hadn't found the right moment the day he woke up, and after that there was no room for anything else in his schedule as Prince…

He hadn't thought this day was so close. The palace seemed happy and even the workplaces of the whole Mountain were talking about it. Thror had changed his mind about his grandson and since almost everyone had a great regard for the Prince, this gave them hope not only for the future of their Kingdom but for their King as well. Talk had been going on about the great King Thror finally able to shake the Dragon Sickness from his mind. There were even rumours that claimed healers had found a cure and Thror was on his way back on track. Thorin was particularly troubled by this because he knew it was definitely not true. He had witnessed Thror's madness more than once in formal council meeting where no one seemed to pay it any attention and everyone waved it away. Thorin knew it was on his own Father's orders. Thrain didn't believe such things as Dragon Sickness existed and he refused to see that something was wrong with his own Father almost fiercely.

He was accepted back in the line of succession but that didn't mean his grandfather trusted him. Thorin was particularly bitter about that since everyone seemed to have forgotten already how Thror had humiliated his grandson in the first place. Thorin knew some simple facts though; his father and grandfather were hiding something from him. There were meetings that he wasn't allowed to attend and then he was sent off to sign documents or develop economic strategies and oversee the work done at the mines and forges. There were conversations he wasn't allowed to hear, hushed voices behind his back. He even caught some councillors once looking at him from afar as if trying to figure something out. Thorin didn't like to be watched. Especially now that he was about to be Prince with all his history and secrets still buried, never to come to the surface. But he wanted to be free to continue what he was, what he was discovering with _the elf_.

Now finally at peace, like he hadn't been for a long good while, his thoughts lingered back to him, not knowing what to expect at the day of his coronation… He knew Thranduil had been invited and he would certainly come along with many of his councilmen. He knew it was risky to attempt anything other than formal conversation between them. Men from Dale and Esgaroth would come too and representatives from all the old Dwarven families. Thorin presumed that this celebration would be as big as his welcoming ritual when he was born and this brought his thoughts back to _him…_ again, the Elven King… Even though they might not have a chance to talk through all these formalities and huge feasts, Thorin couldn't help but wonder… Would he finally answer to Thorin's questions? Would they finally have a chance to understand what was going on between them? The Young Prince couldn't see what path was laid before them… It irritated him. But he had to go through it.

* * *

That night at dinner all the family was gathered together, for the first time in quite bit of time. At first Thorin didn't pay attention to his grandfather talking about the riches of the Mountain and their Kingdom, praising himself and his reign most of all and being proud of new ideas about the forges and the payment the sculptors and smiths should demand from external parties.

'Wanna play, wanna play!' his little sister was exclaiming raising, her small arms to her big brother demandingly. Thorin was smiling at her teasingly.

'Not before you eat your last bite, Dis.' Thorin heard his mother and watched her raising a spoon in front of Dis's mouth, oblivious of Thror's reprimanding gaze at the child, for having cut his greedy speech in half.

When Dis finally swallowed, she raised her arms to Thorin once more, whining and he reached to take her on his lap admiringly. She was going to be a strong fighter one day, Thorin could see that in the way she was stubborn and wise, as a child can be, at the same time.

'There, what do you want to play with little sister?' he teased messing her soft main but let her be at once, chuckling lovingly at the pain he felt when the little one had grabbed his small beard.

'Catch, catch!' she squealed and Thorin let her play 'hide and seek' with his two braids. He loved to watch her play since she was all but a baby. The young Prince had found that she grew really fast, and even though he had duties and training and responsibilities, he never wanted his sister to miss her brother from her childhood, just like he had done with Frerin that was almost fourteen years old now.

Frerin, sitting opposite Thorin at the moment, was giggling at the sight of their sister trying to catch both braids at the same time but not being able to reach them both with her small arms. Thorin gave a little laugh at both of them, but his eyes suddenly grew cold when he caught his mother's warning gaze. It was too late.

'Stop acting like children!' it was grandfather's cold and mocking voice that cut like a knife. Dis's giggles stopped immediately and she nestled in Thorin's arms.

Thorin turned to face him with cheeks heated. Only then he noticed how Thror had been particularly troubling this evening. How could he speak like that to a child no more than five and a teenager that were his grandchildren? Not to mention that he was also speaking to his grandson that was about to become his successor to the throne.

'Grandfather…' Thorin started but was cut off as the dark gaze Thror left him and turned to Frerin, ignoring anything his older grandson had to say completely.

'And you.' There was a poison in his voice and Thorin widened his eyes in disbelief. 'What are you doing always running off with your uncles in the woods?'

'I…' Frerin was strong but Thorin knew he could not be about this. His lip was almost trembling.

Thorin looked to his father for help but her looked at Frerin like he had done something forbidden.

'Answer your grandfather, son.' He pushed and Thorin could see Frerin's eyes widening. He also expected support from Father. Not today apparently.

'I… I was practicing.' The teenager took a deep breath. 'Fundin and Groin teach me, as you commanded, into the art of war. We've been… hunting.' He hesitated on the last word and that was enough for Thror to find a footing.

'Hunting…' he contemplated through gritted teeth and then continued eating his pork. For a moment, everyone was about to return to their food relieved but the King continued in a threatening voice. 'You can't hunt rabbits and deer with axes and swords, boy. The only thing you do in the forest is archery, am I right?' nobody moved… 'Am I right?!' Thror almost spit out, shouting.

'Grandfather.' Thorin couldn't stand idle by anymore. His voice almost rattled the table and his brother was looking at him terrified that he even dared but also relieved. The King was looking at him with piercing gaze immediately and Thorin bravely returned it. 'He's good at it.' And when Thror didn't reply… 'He has in fact a talent. You can't take that away from him.'

'I don't care if he is a protégée!' The King shouted and Thorin instinctively pulled Dis closer. 'No heir of mine will spend his time in archery like a coward, instead of fighting with an axe like a proper Dwarf!' He got up and neared Frerin menacingly. 'Do you hear me, boy!?' Thorin gasped in exasperation and disgust. How could a man, even a King, speak to his family like that, for Mahal's sake?!

'Yes… grandfather.' Frerin whispered never taking his gaze away from his brother, afraid he won't be able to hold on his own anger in for long enough, if he looked at Thror directly. Thorin knew how much his brother loved archery and was sorry he had made it difficult for him by his own actions with the Elven King. The young Prince knew Thror wouldn't have so much animosity build up against the Elves of Mirkwood if it wasn't for him; and his brother could then study archery all his heart desired. This wasn't fair but before Thorin could say anything else, Thror's fiery gaze was directed at him.

'As for you…!' Thorin grew rigid waiting for it. The King could easily denounce him once again. He could exile him this time for good. He could do anything. But he just sighed, suddenly storming out of the room while growling back. 'Your Father will take care of you.'

Thorin could hear the 'you are ungrateful, you shouldn't be an heir of Durin' in his tone but he was so stunned that he didn't move for a whole of five minutes. His mother reached for Dis and left the room, giving him a concerned look, and his brother was looking at him relieved after the first shock. Thorin understood how guilty Frerin's pure heart would feel if his brother was cast out on account of defending him.

'Frerin, leave us.' It was their father's voice, harsh and commanding but never cruel like Thror's. Frerin hesitantly left the room and now Thorin turned to look at his father, finally able to think properly again.

'Why?' he only asked.

'Because we need you, son.' Thorin frowned. That didn't explain much. He opened his mouth to protest but Thrain stopped him. 'He won't ask about your punishment and I'm not going to punish you. Consider your brother's suffering, punishment enough for both of you. But if you ever defy him like that again, it won't be so easy.' And he left the room without another word.

Thorin buried his face to his palm with a grunt. He knew what was expected from him but he simply couldn't do it. He couldn't be the perfect heir, exactly how they wanted him to be. He couldn't! Why did they even need him so much? Frerin was trained well enough to be the next heir and they had time to grow him exactly as they wanted him to be. It was selfish and Thorin loved his brother -certainly didn't want to push him into a fate like this- but why did they need him so desperately? What was going on?

* * *

He learned about the Arkenstone two days before the festivities would start, from his father, Thrain. Thror hadn't bothered to speak to him since that fight -not even in council meetings.

'It is very important, my son, you must understand this' Thrain's tone was hushed 'Your grandfather' he spoke slowly, evading his son's eyes 'the King… has asked for a compensation from all our allies, even from our own kin, based on this stone.'

'But father… What difference is there about a stone?' Thorin questioned carefully. An anger inside of him burning, slowly understanding why Thror had finally accepted him as his youngest heir. Not because of family, not because of love or any emotions a grandfather should have for his grandchild. He wanted to secure his Kingdom in order to be able and make such claims from his allies. He had used his own grandson to satisfy his greed. Thorin shouldn't have hoped for anything more than that but could never imagine the scale of it nor the pain he would feel when he finally heard it.

'You will see… The only thing that matters now, is for you to understand the situation. Every one of our allies will turn against us if this doesn't work. This stone… this jewel… will be our heirloom, our legacy and our fate from now on will be entangled with it!' Thrain's tone grew anxious and restless.

'I understand, father…' Thorin spoke in a low tone, trying to control himself as best he could. They were still playing their chess game… And Thorin had not yet managed to be part of it… He was tossed around like a pawn to be claimed again and again by those who suited them best and he did _not_ like that.

'Listen to me, Thorin. I and your grandfather need you by our side. Whatever we do to ensure everyone's loyalty won't matter if _you_ don't stand with us. The jewel… It is the heart of the mountain itself… It is a blessing, my son. Nobody will question that when they lay eyes on it. But until we reveal it…' his father looked right into Thorin's eyes and then Thorin, the Young Prince of Erebor, nodded understanding and silently pledging his allegiance to his father… to his family… his kin… He hated himself for letting them use him. He felt dirty, like he, himself, was now Thror somehow. But still, he was so different… He didn't know it but he was the exact opposite. Choosing his people… his family… Being honourable in the midst of all their lies… He put away his anger and swore to himself that his heart will remain true to them… And that decision was meant to follow him until the end of his days… No matter whether he acknowledged it or not…

* * *

The day of the coronation came quickly, as if the world wanted to witness it as soon as possible. The guests were arriving slowly, all gave their congratulations to the Young Dwarf Prince waiting for them at the entrance of the mountain alongside his father with smiles, although Thorin knew the hidden rage behind them, at least from the neighbouring dwarven families. How is it possible to ask for payment from your own kin? Thorin couldn't know but he would witness it more than once during his years of life, although he didn't know that either, at least for now… In the midst of it all though he hadn't forgotten the Elves. He couldn't help himself with that particular detail in his mind, reminding him of the graceful Elven King and how furious he would be of his grandfather's supposedly proposed deal. Thorin knew his grandfather could even go to war if especially the Elves refused to pay the price for the grand protection of the Kingdom of Erebor, blessed by the Valar. His anticipation however couldn't remain hidden or suppressed by any dark thoughts when he thought of those light blue eyes looking at him through golden hair in the midst of alabaster skin. It almost became noticeable from his father who gave him a questioning and warning glance and so Thorin gathered himself and waited patiently…

Then at last his patience was rewarded. The Elves were the last ones to enter the mountain, deliberately late of course. Thorin almost smiled at the thought. He then received a demanding glance from his father and nodded, knowing he had to persuade the Elves more than anyone that the new heir was on his forefathers' side. Yet his father didn't know anything about the relationship between Thorin and the brightest elf in the middle of the Elven Company…

'Thorin, would you like to escort our honoured guests to their quarters?' there was the command and Thorin nodded curtly, hiding a smile as his eyes lifted and caught the Elven King's looking at him in a trance that fortunately went unnoticed.

* * *

Finally, alone into Thranduil's quarters once again. Thorin's eyes took into the elf's whole body, his lines and curves and edges before settling to his sparkling eyes… Thranduil was still, returning the glance in a trance, immobile and so stunned. From the moment he had laid his eyes on the Young Prince this evening, he knew there was no way back. There was no doubt anymore. The Elf marvelled at the miracle in front of him, in just a few short weeks how much his Dwarven Prince had grown. His beard was fuller and his eyes had become more mature, his gaze emanating a wisdom Thranduil had never expected. Thranduil's heart fluttered, as it hadn't for a long time, when the blue orbs of Thorin's eyes captivated the regal elf and his breath was caught in his throat.

'King Thranduil…' was the soft and quite formal greeting Thorin dared to utter with a small bow of his head. His low tone and his strong voice filling Thrandui's every cell. They had talked all the formalities in their way here while guiding the rest of Thranduil's Elven Company to their respective rooms and Thorin had deliberately left Thranduil for last even though that might also be expected since the Elven King wouldn't rest until his people were settled as well.

'Prince Thorin…' was the tender reply along with an inclination of his head, finally accepting him formally as the Prince of Erebor. Thorin watched the locks of Thranduil's hair falling to his shoulders and his eyes shone with something other than admiration. The Prince contemplated the note he had read, so many times a couple of months ago, and remembered how Thranduil knew he would be Prince again soon. In other circumstances Thorin would wonder if he had something to do with that but given the regard the current King under the Mountain had for the Mirkwood Elves and especially their King and after all they had been through, his mind didn't even give it a chance of course.

Dinner time had long passed and nobody was expecting them. The Young Prince was supposedly getting ready for the ritual which would take place at dawn and nobody would demand the Elves' presence until then either. Thranduil invited Thorin to sit and sat beside him as if they had never met before. Thorin coughed softly shaking his head. His thoughts weren't particularly clear as he found himself watching the lines of the Elf's neck when he moved and how his Elven silken gowns fell on him delicately. The Elven King smiled to himself at that, having observed the Young Prince and realising how restrained and even shy he was, now that they both had full realisation of the situation. In turn Thorin was fidgeting nervously trying to decide how to start. All it took for them to forget what they were supposed to be doing here in the Mountain, the risks, the implications, the consequences if they were not careful… All it took was one glance. The one they already shared when they lay eyes upon each other earlier for the first time. That's all it took for Thorin, soon to be officially crowned Prince of Erebor, to forget his doubts and his promise to his father and family, as if knowing that they were in no danger from the Elven King anymore, as if the only people that existed on Middle Earth were the two of them, alone.

'So… _My Prince_ …' started the Elven King while his eyes shone with satisfaction as Thorin almost shivered at his tone and turned to look the elf in the eye.

'Yes… _My King_ …'

Thranduil was quite shocked by this reply and his eyes widened while both of them moved slightly closer to one another almost instinctively… It was a game they were more than eager to play and one that would mark their lives and so many others until the end of times…

* * *

 **Reminding of the basic timeline.**

 **Year: 2765 of the Third Age (summer/autumn)**

 **Thror: 223 - Thrain: 121 - Thorin: 19-20 - Frerin: 14 - Dis: 5**

 **Fundin: 103 - Balin: 2**

 **Groin: 94**


End file.
